


We’re Only Gonna Die

by havisham



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Dead Robins, Other, Possession, The Case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: <i>Tim is Robin and Jason is dead, and (one day) Jason takes over.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We’re Only Gonna Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Runespoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runespoor/gifts).



> Written for the [comment meme FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE!!](http://moetushie.livejournal.com/611280.html) on LJ.

Tim knows this is a dream because the Case looms even larger over him that it has ever done before. The light is piercing, pitiless, and he can see the loose threads of the cape, the tarnished buttons and catches. Dust lies thickly over everything. 

Tim knows this is a dream because there’s no way Bruce (or Alfred, for that matter) would let the Case, let Jason, look so badly-kept. 

The glass isn’t even there anymore, the suit just hangs in empty air.

Someone behind him asks, “What are you lookin’ at?” 

Tim turns sharply to find the source of the voice. The accent is familiar, broad and rough, careless of consonants and vowels both. It’s not just from Gotham, but from Crime Alley. 

It’s Jason’s voice. It’s Jason. 

There’s nothing ghostly or lost about him, he’s too solid, the muscles of his arms show through the fabric of his tunic. He’s twitching with nervous energy, crowding Tim in, too present, too alive to be a ghost. And he doesn’t smell like one either, when Tim breathes in, he gets a whiff of the soap Bruce still uses, and the familiar scent of a teenage boy after a work-out.

Jason’s smiling like he’s got a secret, and somewhere along the line the lenses of his mask fell off, revealing a pair of sparkling blue eyes, as clear as a summer’s day. 

“Robin,” he says, dipping his curly head in acknowledgement, friendly in the way Tim’s never dreamed that Jason would be to him. The few times they had met at the society shindigs that Bruce had to and his parents (when they were in town) wanted to attend, weren’t exactly successes. 

Tim and Jason had been introduced to each other a couple of times, actually. And every time Jason had been uninterested, bored with him and uncomfortable in the suit Bruce had made him wear, his curly hair slicked back with heavy-smelling pomade and his eyes sullen. 

And Tim, well he couldn’t say, _hey_ , I _know_ who you are and what you do. I know that you have foundation on your right cheek, and why. (Because a goon clocked you right there, last night.) 

I know because I saw it. I know who you are, _Robin_.

Jason’s lips hover an inch or two away from Tim’s straining ears. “C’mon, champ. Let me have a little spin. You have _no_ idea how boring it gets around here.” 

“I --” 

Somewhere, a door slams shut and Tim jerks awake. 

He’s still in the cave, and Bruce is still hunched over his computer. He doesn’t look up when Tim mutters his goodbyes. Alfred’s not so lax, he studies Tim closely before deciding that he’ll drive Tim back home tonight (this morning), even over Tim’s sleepy protests. 

The housekeeper’s gone home, and the Drake house is empty, except for Tim. He climbs into bed and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

\+ 

The next day, Tim gets up late, his alarm clock is already blaring. He can’t find anything to wear except a old red hoodie and torn up pair of jeans. He dozes through his classes, ignoring the weird looks the other kids give him. After lunch, he decides to skip, vaulting over the fence easily. 

It’s sunny day, for late October, with Halloween just around the corner. The decorations on the houses change gradually, from sheaves of Indian corn and piles of elaborately carved pumpkins to plastic Jack-o-Lanterns and spider-stickers windows. 

He hangs around outside a gas station, without any particular idea of what he should do, until some guy comes out of the store with a fresh pack of cigarettes. 

“Hey man, gimme one of those.” Tim’s hand is out before he can stop himself. 

And the guy, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair under a faded baseball cap, says mildly, “Careful, son. They’ll stunt your growth,” before he tosses him a couple. Tim laughs a little and shakes his head. He lights one up with a lighter he found on the sidewalk. He breathes in the smoke, deeply, and out again, as he keeps walking around the city. Everything looks new to him, he’s not used to seeing everything on foot and in daylight. But Gotham by daylight is just a half the story, and the boring part of it. All set-up, no action. 

There’s a bike that’s tied to a tree, and after a couple of tries, Tim gets it free and coasts through the streets until he get to Steph’s house. He rings her doorbell and waits, leaning against the door-frame. Steph opens the door, she’s in an old purple t-shirt and black shorts, her hair is loose and wet. She looks heartbreaking, wonderfully beautiful. 

“Hiya, gorgeous,” Tim says, a cheesy smile tugging at his lips. 

Steph takes a long look at him and says, “... _Alvin_ , what the fuck?” 

It turns out that Steph has a lot of homework to do (she looks doubtful when Tim offers, hopefully, to help) and can’t go out tonight (sorry), and he really should go (before her mom gets home.) 

But before he does go, he snatches a kiss from Steph and she looks like she wants to punch him or maybe kiss him too (or maybe do both of these things) but Tim’s gone by then. 

It’s almost dark, and he’s heading like an arrow to the heart of Gotham (for him, anyway), Wayne Manor. To Bruce. 

To Bruce, who’s waiting for him with an irritable expression on his face. “Tim, I’ve been informed that you skipped some of your classes this afternoon. Care to explain why?” 

Tim’s already making his way to the Cave, his heart pounding hard in his chest. It’s exciting, it’s always exciting, when it’s time to suit up. But Bruce expects, and probably deserves an answer, so he says, distractedly -- which uniform is he gonna wear tonight? -- “Took a personal day today, B. You know how it is.” 

He’s stopped from taking the suit from its locker by a huge (firm) hand on his shoulder. 

Bruce says, “Tim. Am I going to have to send you home?” 

And Tim is forced to look up and at Bruce. He’s a little nervous when he says, “C’mon, Bruce. It’s not like you go to every single board-meeting at Wayne Enterprises. It was just one day, and you know I can get caught up, just like that.” 

Bruce makes an unhappy noise, but doesn’t say anything more about it. 

Tim grins. He know he’s won this one. 

\+ 

It’s a full moon tonight, and Gotham’s already got more than its share of lunatics. They’re kept busy, zipping from one end of the city to another, before the bat-signal calls them to attention. 

Bats and Gordon converse in hushed tones, a conversation that Robin’s not privy to. It doesn't matter. He has a good idea what they’re talking about anyway, but he’s careful to be seen testing the sharpness of his birdarangs as they speak.

Anyway, the fighting’s good tonight, Robin feels a warm glow of satisfaction as he brings his bo stick down hard on the skull of a charging henchmen. He chortles as the guy sinks to the ground. “See ya next fall!” 

The classics are _classics_ for a reason, after all. 

\+ 

He’s actually not doing that well, for some reason, he almost gets caught up on certain things, because he’s not -- as heavy as he ought to be, not as tall -- and it’s not right -- he catches Batman watching and waves if off. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” 

“ _Robin_ ,” Batman says, and it’s both an admonishment, a warning. And a small note of worry. 

“I can do this,” Robin says, firmly. 

\+ 

The night grows long and Robin sends a few guys to the hospital, Batman is … nonplussed, to say the least. But he doesn’t send Robin home, but keeps him by his side. Robin keeps cracking bad jokes (and bones, and teeth, and...) until Batman holds him back, shakes his head. “We’re done.” 

Robin makes a whining noise at the back of his throat before he catches the look on Batman’s face. He backs down with a weary sigh, which belies his smile, sharp and baiting. “All right. Up to you, Boss.” 

They drive back to the Cave in silence, broken only by the sound of Robin’s humming, snatches of songs that were popular a few years ago. He puts his leg on the dashboard, and watches for Batman’s reaction. 

Batman ignores him, but his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. 

\+ 

Robin doesn’t wait for Batman’s dismissal, he’s still buzzing with energy. He leaves a trail of discarded pieces of his uniform on the floor of the cave, discarding the cape first, hopping forward to get free of his boots, then his tights -- until he get to the Case. 

In waking life, its presence has become somehow diminished. It seems empty, almost. 

Robin presses his bare hand against the glass, smudging the shining surface. He sees his reflection and smiles. It’s Jason’s smile. It’s Jason’s face, peering out from the Case. 

It’s Jason. 

Bruce is watching him carefully -- his eyes are narrowed and his breathing slow, measured. He will find out. He is a detective, after all, and Jason’s left him more than enough clues.


End file.
